


If I Had My Way

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight he just wanted to connect, feel her, be felt, reach a place together that they had been so many times separately but were never quite satisfied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Had My Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to [The Fourth Date](http://community.livejournal.com/lairofthemuses/64903.html#cutid1). It was supposed to be smut but you know how Aaron and Emily are in my head. They do it their way…I just write it all down. The title is from the Chrisette Michele song. I heard it on the radio today and knew it was all about this moment.

His heart was beating too fast. Hotch stopped in the middle of the steps, turned around and went back down two stairs. This was a bad idea. Who did he think he was? But he needed to do this; they needed to talk.

Who wanted to talk in the middle of the night? There was no point of him going back to bed, he couldn’t sleep. Nodding to himself as if his mind was made up, Hotch turned again and went up the steps. At the top he reached a creaky board in the floor. It was the loudest thing he’d ever heard. He was so freaked out he nearly fell down the stairs.

Light on his feet, yes sometimes he really was, Hotch stepped over it and kept going down the hall. He’d never been upstairs in Emily’s condo before and didn’t know which bedroom was hers. He assumed the master bedroom; he hoped he didn’t walk in on a room full of boxes. He practically walked on his tiptoes…didn’t want anymore floorboards to thwart his plans.

What were his plans? Why was he sweating? The house wasn’t hot yet he felt like he had a fever. The nape of his neck, his forehead, and his palms were all clammy. He took another deep breath and finally got to the doorway.

“If you make another move, I will shoot your balls off.”

“What?”

“Hotch?”

Emily reached for the light, squinted, and looked at her Unit Chief. He was wearing a tee shirt and boxer briefs; it took her a moment to collect herself. She was still holding the Glock at his chest level.

“Let’s put the firearms away.” He said.

“What are you doing?” The gun didn’t move.

“Are you going to shoot me or not? If not, put the gun away, Emily.”

Sighing, Emily put the safety back on the gun and slipped it into her nightstand drawer. She just looked at him.

“What are you doing?” She asked again.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“It’s…” Emily looked at her alarm clock. “1:36 in the morning.”

“Timing is everything.” He replied, a slight smile dancing across his face.

“What's going on, Hotch? Come in; you don’t have to stand there like you’ve done something wrong.”

Hotch came in the room but he still stood in the middle of the floor. He honestly didn’t know what to do so he just stood there.

“I didn’t exactly come upstairs to talk.” He said.

“What did you come up here to do?” Emily’s mouth suddenly went dry. All the moisture had traveled south and she felt her stomach drop. It wasn’t an ominous drop but a curious one.

“Probably exactly what made you pull out that gun.”

“Rape and murder me.”

“No, Emily.”

“Well that’s why I had the gun out.” She said.

“No one would’ve gotten past me to hurt you. You can be assured of that.”

Hotch’s voice was steady, strong, but also thick and lush. He could hear it high above him as if it hadn't come from his own lips. He started moving toward the bed, his feet moving without his brain’s consent. Could it be possible that Emily was moving over for him, holding back the covers, and beckoning him without a word?

They didn’t need words; the heat lingered in the room above them, palpable. Hotch slipped between the sheets and then threw them aside. He needed her but he needed room to take her. One arm around her waist and pulling her close, Hotch used the other to turn out the lamp.

“You're an in the dark guy…I'm not surprised.”

Any other words were drowned out in his kiss. It was more possessive than the first, overpowering, and passionate. Emily fought for some control, moaning as her tongue lashed against his. It took a little while but soon they both relaxed, letting the passion override the urgency. Neither wanted this to be urgent. Hotch wanted to enjoy every minute of it, wanted to drown in it. Who would ever want it to end?

Struggling for breath, Emily pulled away. She lifted his shirt over his head and then her own. Hotch wanted her so much, every inch. But she wanted her moment first. She leaned and kissed his heartbeat. And then her lips brushed across the length of each of his nine hideous stab wounds.

Emily was making them her own. They didn’t belong to George Foyet, Hotch didn’t belong to him; he belonged to her. It might only be for a night, for nothing more than a moment, but he would remember that. Feather light kisses made him suck in breath. He pulled down his boxer briefs while she still focused on his torso. Hotch wanted to reach her, wanted her as naked as he was, but she was too far away.

“Emily…” He could barely breathe her name from his lips. When she looked up at him, he gasped.

“I want you so much,” She said. “I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Just for tonight,” Hotch pulled her into his arms, another blistering kiss. “Losing control is alright.”

“I want more than tonight.” She whispered, her hands sliding around to caress his strong back and wonderful ass. Yes, she thought of his ass a lot, knew she shouldn’t but did anyway. His skin was always on Emily’s mind. Now it was between her fingertips.

“If this happens tonight, I'm sure I won't be able to help myself. I’ll need you again, and again, and again. My God…”

He rolled on the mattress, on top of her. Hotch desperately wanted to take his time and savor the feeling of her body but he felt like he was going to explode. Eager thumbs played with her nipples, which hardened at the slightest touch. He was gentler with the left one, hardly believing the silver hoop that went through it.

“Did that hurt?” He asked, bending to kiss it before his tongue tasted it. When he blew on it, Emily moaned.

“No.”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“It was about a decade ago; it doesn’t matter.” Emily said. She didn’t want his mouth to talk; she wanted it to ravage her.

He stayed on her breasts, had always been attracted to them. She had an amazing body; a blind man could see it. She was trim but not skinny, with round, pert breasts, a flat belly, sinewy arms and thighs, gorgeous calves that teased him the few times she wore a dress in the BAU bullpen. Emily could be bound by a business suit and her body still screamed ‘look at me’. And every man in the room usually did.

“You are so damn beautiful.” He murmured, face still in her breasts. “Every part of you is beautiful; every inch, every molecule.”

“I get it.” Emily giggled, which turned into a moan when he gave her right breast a gentle squeeze.

“I'm not sure you do.”

“If I don’t, then show me.”

Hotch moved back her collarbone, spreading her thighs wide as his body got comfortable on hers. They fit like hand and glove which didn’t surprise him, though the heat Emily gave off was still enough to make him shiver. He was sure in the morning he would have third degree burns all over him. He would be marked as hers and that was as it should be.

“Tell me that you want me, Emily.” He whispered into her skin, his body thrusting against hers.

The sound she made as she gripped his hips made Hotch crazy. He had to pull back, take a second, pray for control…he’d never felt so out of control before. She took his face gently in her hands. Hotch knew what she could do with a gun, had seen her chase down Unsubs and kick in doors. She had the softest pair of hands he ever felt in his life.

“Shut up, Aaron.” She replied, gently kissing away the last barrier between them.

Hotch tried not to be too aggressive in his sex. He didn’t want to fuck her, oh yes he did want to fuck her…he just didn’t want to fuck her tonight. Tonight he wanted to connect, feel her, be felt, reach a place together that they had been so many times separately but were never quite satisfied. She would make tiny noises, Hotch wasn’t sure if they were pleasure or pain. Every time he would try to pull back Emily would just come after him and make sure he did no such thing.

“Oh, don’t stop. Mmm, Aaron.”

“Oh baby.”

He was close; this was not going to be like one of those long movie love scenes. When he first touched her clit, Emily’s eyes, which had fluttered shut some time ago, opened. She smiled at him, it was almost feral…it was sexy as hell.

“Bet the last guy needed a road map.” Hotch didn’t know where he found the energy to be cheeky. He certainly didn’t want to talk about any other men. But he knew that look. It was pleasurable surprise and he was smitten with it. “I'm not coming without you.” He said. “You wanna come, baby?”

“Ohhh yes.” She grinned, whimpering as he hit just the right spot.

The first time was always awkward, even when you were crazy about the guy. There was a short list of guys Emily had been crazy about in her life. The first time was always about bumps, stutter steps, discomfort…a sloppy kiss or a hipbone in the wrong place. It wasn’t that way with Hotch. It wasn’t perfect, nothing was perfect, but it was blissful.

They seemed to know parts of each other, places, as if they had been together last Tuesday or the night before. How did he know licking the sweat from her collarbone would turn her on? How did she know that biting his shoulder made him growl? None of it was too hard, too soft, too sloppy, or too straight. It was just two people coming together, finally, and making the most of every single second of it.

“Aaron!” Her climax surprised her, the intensity of it. The only person who’d made Emily come for quite some time was Emily. It became a matter of releasing tension; nothing so beautiful or sexy about it. This was the opposite. This was ascension as it was meant to be. This was so good she could taste it, chew it, savor it and then swallow. No, Emily didn’t want to swallow yet…she wanted to hold it in her jaw until the flavor became a part of her being.

Hotch wasn’t done yet. He felt her first climax but held onto his own. He felt Emily arch, shudder, grab hold, and let go.

“Again.”

He didn’t form it as a question or a statement; it was just a matter of fact. He could barely get the word out. Hotch had reached that wonderful stage where he was losing his breath. He was losing his mind. The way she whimpered and gripped his hips…he never wanted it to end.

But he was close, so close, and he brought Emily to the edge with him. This time when she fell she grabbed him by the throat and pulled him down with her. He gasped, it sounded like his last breath, as his climax drained him of all his energy. Hotch didn’t want to collapse on her but he didn’t have the strength to do anything but. They both let out ragged breaths, tried to gather themselves while holding on to the moment as long as possible.

“I love you.”

Emily wasn’t sure she heard what she heard. His face was buried deep in the crook of her neck, hot breath doing nothing to cool her perspiring skin. She ran her fingers from the crack of his perfect ass all the way up to his hairline; once, twice, and then a third time. The sob that escaped his throat didn’t surprise her.

“Aaron.” She whispered his name, kissed his temple, and he sobbed again. Emily didn’t know if he was crying but he shook a bit and a couple more sobs came. She just stroked his back as he remained inside her. He was so deep inside of her that the tears belonged to them both. They were one body, one soul, and she never wanted him to leave. Emily pushed away the thoughts that this was a one-time deal. Sex she could live without, she had for years, minus a few regrets. But the closeness, feeling him…she wouldn’t give that up without a fight.

Hotch was exhausted, barely had the strength to pull himself off her and onto the mattress. He pulled her to him, her back to his chest, and they just breathed. Emily knew he fell asleep first; felt his body relax against hers. The soft breathing came next and she let it guide her into her dreams.

***

The alarm rang too early, quarter to six. Emily slapped her hand over it and went to cuddle in his arms again. She opened her eyes when she realized she was alone in the bed. Her stomach dropped; he’d left her. She immediately tried to rationalize it…he had to get Jack up and off to camp.

He had to get to work and needed to shower and put on his Hotch uniform. He could’ve showered there. No…well, she couldn’t rationalize any reason he couldn’t. Emily turned over to look out the rain streaked window, pushing the bile of her disappointment back down her throat and into her hollow stomach.

That’s when she saw the note on the pillow. It was a piece of her stationery, light grey with her name in black, From the Desk of Emily Prentiss. The stationery was her mother’s idea. It was folded in half so she opened it. Reading in the dark wouldn’t cut it this morning so she reached for the lamp, squinting against the light.

_Dear Emily,_

_I hardly wanted to leave your arms this morning and I'm sorry I had to but I had to get Jack ready for camp. I hope that doesn’t sound as silly when you're reading it as it did when I wrote it down. We’ll talk soon, as I'm sure you know we cannot at Quantico. This weekend will just be about us. We’ll take Jack and drive to the Harbor and spend time together as a family. I should've been with you guys last night. I wasn’t but I won't ever make that mistake again. I’ll probably make plenty more so bear with me. Just hold on, love me as much as I love you, and this will be everything we want it to be._

_Aaron_

She smiled, holding the paper to her nose and inhaling his scent. It smelled like his skin, his sweat, and her sweat. Emily knew Hotch didn’t shower before he left so he went home smelling like her…smelling like them. That was something a woman could definitely get used to. Last night had been amazing. Still, Emily knew there could be much more.

She wanted it all, wasn’t afraid to work for it. Aaron Hotchner had been the man she wanted for so long and this was their chance to find a little happiness. He loved her, he said so, and Hotch would never say something like that if he didn’t mean it. He told and she showed; it was how their relationship worked so far. Now it was time for each of them to do a little bit of both. Grabbing her cell phone, Emily pressed the button for text and sent her first message of the day.

‘ _Good morning. I love you too_.’ That was enough for now…that said it all.

***

  



End file.
